


For Old Times' Sake

by Barbedbeat



Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Intrigue, Pirates, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:12:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16106675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barbedbeat/pseuds/Barbedbeat
Summary: Ember enters a spiral of nostalgia when her Brother shows up, unannounced in the Deadfire. She'll let her emotions run free, enjoying some needed respite from the trauma Eothas' resurgence had caused... but things are never what they seem.A tale of brotherly love, sadness and swashbucklin' privateering.Also, I suck at summaries.





	1. Chapter 1

Ember was losing her mind.  
She knew it.  
She also knew exactly what that sensation, that icy trickle crawling down her spine was. It was fear: the scorching, gut-wrenching fear of losing control.  
She took a deep breath and placed both hands on her desk, steeling herself.  
Then, after regaining her composure, she began tapping all the objects that sat before her, one by one, with methodical determination.  
Journal, quill compass, bullets and, to her great dismay, no coral snuff tin.  
She groaned, squeezing the bridge of her mangled nose between two fingers.  
Confound it.  
She was sure, _so absolutely sure_ she’d put it there: right between the compass and the three spare bullets, just like she did every night before retiring.  
Yet that morning, just like every morning, she’d crawled off her bunk and had reached blindly for her snuff... retrieving nothing but a pinch of dust and a plethora of questions.  
  
The same thing had happened the day before as well.  
That time, though, the victim of an equally mysterious disappearance had been an object of even greater importance: her quill.  
It was her favourite: raven-black, with an exquisitely smooth trait and a perpetual ink enchantment. She’d sat at her desk, all bent on scribbling something, only to find it gone. She’d cursed, she’d panicked, she’d asked every single soul on the ship whether they’d seen the blasted thing and, eventually, she’d just grabbed one of Aloth’s pencils and had traipsed back to her cabin.  
It was only after she’d sat back down that she’d seen it.  
Her quill, resting peacefully on top of her journal’s cover.  
Just like always.  
Ember hadn’t said anything. She’d simply stared at it for a few seconds, blinking her befuddlement away. Then, with an instinctive jerk, she’d raised a hand to feel her forehead.  
A tad on the warmish side, maybe, but not so much as to justify hallucinations. Besides, she pondered, stroking the revenant gadget with the tip of her thumb, she could touch it. It was real.

“Weird”, she’d thought, stifling a nervous yawn.  
Was she so sleep-deprived she’d started imagining things?  
She began toying with the idea of asking Berath to find a substitute Herald before shaking the thought out of her head.  
“Let’s not dwell on it”, she’d said to no one in particular. “Tonight, we’ll get a good, healthy dose of sleep, and tomorrow we’ll be just fine. No need to worry about such a trivial setback”, she’d concluded.  
  
  
Now though, she wasn’t so sure anymore.  
The night was barely over, and her snuff box seemed to have vanished in thin air with no plausible explanation.  
_“Weird”_ , she thought again, scratching her flaming head a bit harder than necessary.  
Two disappearing personal effects in the span of two days.  
A mere coincidence?

Or the sign her mind had begun its inexorable descent into madness?  
She bit her lip, striving not to humour the strands of queasiness that tugged at her stomach.

To be quite frank, she'd never been the tidies of people, bue she _did_ like to keep her things in a semblance of order.  
Order was the herald of control, and control was important.  
Or better, its illusion was.  
She’d learnt that lesson after Caed Nua had crumbled under Eothas’ violent resurgence, after she’d been scooped up from the wreckage and shoved back to life, a gaping void in her soul and a scream locked tight in her throat.  
Ever since, she’d caught herself getting more and more attached to her possessions, and more than once she’d found her serenity undermined by their lack of proper organization.  
Moreover, she’d found said serenity easier to maintain by establishing some trustworthy routines.  
Routines were comforting.  
They emptied her mind, and ensured her all her things were there, right within reach.  
Cause it was these things, these little things, that helped her stay afloat.  
It was knowing her journal always rested on the left side of her desk, and that no matter when or why, she could always open it and pour her turmoil on the page.  
It was feeling the cold surface of the snuff box under her fingers and indulging in a pinch or two whenever apathy cast its dark pall over her.  
It was the fleeting, flickering illusion that, amidst the unpredictable, utter chaos of the cosmos, some things-- no matter how trivial-- were still somewhat predictable, manageable, enjoyable.  
For it was that very illusion-- paired with all the rituals aimed at strengthening it-- that prevented her from snapping under the weight of her dread, and that helped her quell the screams of the fallen whenever their memory surged, thundering, through her skull.  
Should that bubble of repetitions and fleeting pleasures have popped, she’d have found her wits thrown in a churning sea of bleakness.  
And her mind couldn’t swim.  
Ember popped her knuckles, trying to stop her hands from shaking.  
She could feel the cracks in her skin drying up, and the first bursts of flame tingling uncomfortably at the base of her neck.  
She was losing the grip on her fire.  
She had to calm down.  
Yes, she thought: a little stroll abovedeck would certainly do me-- and any flammable object in the vicinity-- good.  
She knelt on the floor, reaching for the spot underneath her bunk where her boots normally lay... only to find it damnably empty.

 

\---

 

  
Not good. Not good at all.  
Pulse racing, Ember had stormed out of her cabin, introducing herself in her companions’ quarters.

She had to talk to someone, anyone-- no, not just anyone, _and especially not Aloth_ \-- to share the weight in her chest with, to yank her out of the hole she’d slid into, to help her put things back into a calmer focus.  
And she knew exactly who to bother.

 

  
“ _Psst… psst_ , hey!”  
  
“Hrrm… hm.”  
  
“Hey… hey, wake up… please?”  
  
“Hrm-- uh, Em? What’s going on? You sick or somethin’?”

  
“No, I just-- I just need to talk to you. Please? It’s important.”

  
Edér blinked slowly, eyelids heavy and puffy with sleep. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he gave her a quick nod.  
“Alright”, he grumbled.  
Ember stifled the urge to hug him. “Gods, thank you, I… ” She whispered, exhaling a dry puff of relief. “Meet me in the galley. We’ll speak there.”

 

\---

The Watcher stood alone in the caboose, tampering with an old pewter teapot she’d found in one of the cupboards.  
She’d just finished topping it with water when the earthy, honey smell of smoke tickled her nostrils and a hand the size of a dictionary perched on her shoulder.  
“Break of dawn, crawlin’ in my bunk like that… thought you’d started going soft on me, Em.”  
Edér’s voice was low and gravelly, but his tone surprisingly brisk for someone who’d been shaken out of bed in the wee hours.  
“Idiot. Come, have a seat.” She pointed at the stool by her side and looked as his friend complied, plopping his feet on the table in the process.  
“Care for some tea?”, she asked and, before the man had a chance to answer, she slid a full cup under his nose.  
“Well, since you’re offering...”, he started, wrapping his fingers around the mug and taking a careful sip.  
“Anyway. Earlier you came to me, told me something was naggin’ at you. Got me real worried, old gal, and… hey, wait a minute.”  
He stopped mid-sentence, knitting his brow and staring, puzzled, at her ankles. “What are you doing barefoot?! Thought you hated the feeling.”  
Ember’s shoulders sank.  
“Yes. To be frank, Ed, I fucking hate it.” She placed the teapot back on its tray with excessive force and collapsed on the chair behind her.  
“This is exactly the problem-- and the reason I wanted to talk to you.” Edér’s eyes locked with hers as she pressed her palms hard against her face.  
She was starting to crack, and it showed.  
“You see”, she reprised, “thing is… I think I’m going mad. And no, I don’t mean Watcher-mad, it’s just-- it feels different. It feels like the world has been trying to slip away from me… and so far, it succeeded real well.”  
Edér took a long, pensive drag on his pipe. “What do you mean?”  
“I mean”, Ember swallowed, fighting with the wetness welling in her eyes, “I have started losing track of my things. They just… vanish under my nose, only to reappear after I’ve gone crazy looking for them. But they’ve always been there, I’m sure! I never moved ‘em! And if I did, well, I have no recollection of the fact, and this is… this is not good, Edér, not good at all”.  
Her voice was trembling uncontrollably, and she caught herself half-choking on a sob.  
The soldier shifted his weight, expression as blank and unreadable as a sheet of bleached parchment.  
“Uh. Shit, you’re scaring me, Em. How long did you say this has been going on?”  
“It-- it all started the night we dropped anchor here in Tikawara, so it’s been like… a couple of days now?” She said, wiping a sulphur tear off her nose.  
“First I couldn’t find my quill, then my snuff box positively _poofed_ out of existence, and now my bloody boots are gone!! _Berath’s Wheel_ , they were under my bed when I went to sleep, I swear on my life! Yet, now they’re just not there anymore, and I… I...” She fell silent, head in hand, a whine of agony bubbling up her throat.

“I’m sorry, I know how ridiculous this may sound to you, but…  I’m feeling like shit, and it takes very little to--” She stopped abruptly, suddenly aware of a shift in the room’s atmosphere.  
It was something akin to a draft, a gentle swirl of air that tickled the back of her neck and made her flames sway a fraction.

She’d felt it before, all those years ago, when Thaos’s assassins had made a habit of stalking her during her wanderings through Defiance Bay; and she didn’t like it one bit.  
Her gaze rushed to meet Edér’s and, to her great puzzlement, she saw him smile.  
Eyes wide, she started turning around, a pressing question forming on her lips.  
Before she could do as much as open her mouth, however, she’d found herself lifted from her seat, arms and ribs crushed in the strongest, most enthusiastic hug she’d ever received.  
Then, a familiar voice began speaking. In Ixamitl.

  
_“I missed you so much you couldn’t believe, you disastrous, torch-head madwoman of a sister.”_


	2. Chapter 2

 

Ember’s legs gave away as she hit the ground, heart racing with a mingle of emotions.  
Mouth agape, she stared at the figure before her, eyes tracing its familiar contours.  
It was that of an elf, his scar-laden face brightened by a grin, hair red as fire and braided the Ixamitl way, arms spread in a beckoning gesture.

Her brother.  
  
“Tixoc!!”  
She leaped forward, chest bursting with joy as she hugged him tight, squeezing him with all the force she could muster.  
“Itztli!! Gods, I’m happy to see you!”  
Tixoc mirrored her embrace, lifting her up once more.  
“What in Hel are you doing here?!”, she started. “And how…”  
“Ah-ha! Just a moment!” The elf raised a finger, silencing the incoming stream of questions.  
“Before we begin, I think you should have this.” She watched as her brother rummaged through his pocket, retrieving a small metal box.  
Her coral snuff box.  
“Rumors say you get unbearably grumpy if you don’t smell some in the morning. Is that true?”  
Ember’s lips moved without a sound as she connected the dots.  
“Y… YOU!!”, she yelled, outrage wafting off of her in thick plumes.  
“It was… it was you all along!” She clenched her fists as her Aedyran morphed into a brash Ixamitl dialect.  
_“You verminous RAT!!”_  
Tixoc dodged her slap with all the grace of a dancer, chuckling uncontrollably in the process.  
_“Wait until I get my hands on you, you absolute assw--”_  
  
Edér’s raucous laughter derailed her train of insults, attracting its ire.  
“And you!! You were in on this all along!”  
Tixoc’s tone oozed with mirth as he barked a loud “Of course he was! How else do you think I’d managed to sneak on board otherwise?”  
“I--- I’ve never seen--” Edér was wheezing wildly, cheeks the color of ripe tomatoes.  
“I’ve never seen her so pissed-- _oh Gods, Em, you shoulda seen your face..._ ” He broke down laughing once more, resting his head on the table, shoulders shook by a fit of glee.  
Ember put a hand to her forehead, wobbly with both shock and relief.  
“You...”  
She grabbed the nearest stool and collapsed on it, pressing her palms hard against her face.  
“You played me like a Gods-damned fiddle, you two.”  
She raised her gaze to meet that of Tixoc first and Edér’s next.  
“You dirty, lying, scheming bas--”  
  
The galley door burst open, revealing the sleepy faces of her crew and allies alike.  
“Is everything alright? We heard some commotion and...”  
Aloth’s voice trailed off as he stepped inside the room, eyes wide with surprise.  
“No… Tixoc! You lovely scoundrel, what are you doing here?!”  
“Oh my, Aloth!! Is that really you??”  
They hopped in front of each other, hands locked in an enthusiastic shake, their accents matching in all and for all.  
“I had no idea you’d left Aedyr!”  
“Oh, that I did! Quite a few months ago, in fact. You see...”  
  
“Pardon the interruption, gentlemen, but... would it be half too blunt of me to ask ‘what in the furriest fuck’s going on here’?!”  
Serafen had barreled in, mane and beard as scraggly as a mongrel’s, eyes bloodshot and gun on the ready.  
Ember jumped up from her seat, hands held high in a query for calm.  
“Everyone relax! Nothing is going on-- except for, well...” She slipped next to Tixoc and squeezed his shoulder affectionately before continuing, “...my brother’s surprise visit, that is.”  
Tekehu elbowed his way inside, a charming smirk plastered on his face.  
“Ekera! I didn’t know you had a brother, dear Watcher...” His eyebrows bumped upwards as he took in Tixoc’s figure, smile broadening with delight.  
“And such a fine-looking one at that!”.  
He winked impishly before clapping his hands.  
“We must celebrate, I say!”  
  
“Well, I didn’t quite expect...” Ember let her gaze wander amongst her crew, registering a tacit surge of approval in their demeanors.  
Saying “no” would have been too cruel, even for her standards.  
She sighed internally and raised her shoulders into a complacent shrug.  
“Very well, then: we will. Irrena! Cook-Cook! Riggere!”  
She waited as the kitchen gang reported in, exchanging complicit whispers amongst themselves.  
“This is a day of celebration. I want you to prepare a proper feast. Steam the crabs, salt the swordfish, and let the spirits flow. Pay no mind to expenses. In brief...”  
She steepled her fingers, flames swirling with determination. “... do your gods-damned worst.”  
  
She then raised her eyes to address her crew as a whole.  
“We won’t be sailing until every last soul on this ship will be crawling on the floor, a belly full of food and rum burning in their guts. DID YOU HEAR ME?”  
A festive roar erupted from the crowd, shaking the ship from bow to stern.  
“Don’t worry, casità.” Irrena elbowed her in the ribs as the din reached its peak, a playful glimmer in her eyes, “We won’t disappoint you.”

 

\---

 

Ember watched as the Splinter’s hold shed its spartan appearance, dressing itself with wreaths and festoons, its tables brimming with all manners of delicacies, ale and rum pouring out of the barrels stacked on its benches in a steady stream.  
She observed her family and allies as they frolicked, breathing in the joyful atmosphere, warming up to each other in that shared moment of respite.  
The Watcher, however, did not partake.  
Tea and hardtack were more than enough to quench her meager appetite, and drink would bring out demons she’d rather not confront.  
She listened and chatted and waited, till night cast its pall upon them, till the last barrel had run dry, till the ongoing Orlan’s Head tournament had become too boisterous and dangerous for both flesh and furniture to continue.  
When the last, few sailors finally stumbled to their bunks she’d left, followed closely by Tixoc.  
  
“Oh, my, that Iselmyr lass is such a character… Magran’s tits, the tales she told tonight-- did you hear the one about the monk and the hen?! Bloody riotous, that was!”  
Her brother held his sides as he entered Ember’s cabin, a cackle erupting from his throat.  
“Aloth would skin you alive if he were to hear that, Tix. Still, I’m glad you had a good time.”  
She sat at her desk and waited for the man to do the same.  
“Hehe, oh, I did. You know: I’d forgotten how pleasant your friends were, ‘Li.”  
“I, on the other hand, still remember you’d lost on of your eyes during your first trip to Aedyr, sixteen years ago.”  
She pointed at the man’s right socket, which, surprisingly, seemed to sport a perfectly intact eyebulb.  
“How did you manage to grow it back?”  
Tixoc grinned.  
“Oh, you mean this?” With a sickening suction noise, he pried it out of its cavity and placed it onto his open palm.  
“It’s a fake! Or better--”, he rectified, handing it to his revolted sister, “it’s a magical curio. It knows quite a few tricks, the ol’ chap. Here, let me show you.”  
He snapped his fingers, causing the eye to start whirling onto itself.  
“I can direct it from a distance...”, he said, as the little peeper panned around, perfectly matching the movements of his head.  
“... and even see through walls!”, he continued, pointing it towards the bridge and grimacing almost immediately.  
“Oh wow, _ew_ ”, he chuckled. “Someone’s drank a bit too much, I fear. Anyhow!”  
He jerked forward, snatching the gadget from Ember’s hands and quickly slotting it back in place.    
“It’s an absurdly useful tyke, this one. Saved my hide more times than I care to count. Besides”, he went on, slouching back in his chair, “it’s great for pulling some mischief on a certain neurotic relative of mine.”  
He winked, snickering softly at Ember’s scowl.  
“Ah, yes: real useful, _that_ . You should be _proud_ .”  
Silence fell between the two as a warm kind of realization seeped into their chests.  
“Gods, it feels like yesterday...”, he started.  
“... that you’d sneak into my room to steal my scrolls...”  
“...and that you’d retaliate by putting live geckos inside my boots.”  
Ember felt her lips break into a nostalgic smile.  
  
“How long ago was that, Tix?”  
“Oh, I don’t know.” Tixoc shrugged, counting the years on his knuckles, “Some… fifty eight years ago?”  
“Fifty ei...?!” Her voice trailed off as she hid her face behind her palms.  
“Gods, we’re old.”  
“Hey, speak for yourself!”, he retorted, giving her arm a playful nudge.  
“We’re elves! We won’t be old for another century or two. I know _I_ won’t.”  
“I know _I_ won’t…!”, she repeated mockingly, prying a chortle out of both. “ _Fucker_ .”  
Ember stared at her brother for the longest of seconds, savouring that fuzzy feeling only familiar intimacy can bring.  
Something, however made it impossible for it to endure.  
It was something akin to a tug at her mind’s sleeve, something that could be ignored only for a time before it became unbearable: the incessant tug of a question left unspoken for too long.

Ember took a deep breath and locked eyes with her brother.  
It had to get out.  
  
“Tixoc,” she blurted.  
_“Why are you here?”_

 


	3. Chapter 3

Tixoc opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, but no sound came out.  
When he spoke, his voice was low.  
“ _Why are you here_ , she asks”. His lips twitched upwards, but his smile was insincere.  
“I… I thought it was obvious?” He swallowed as he weighed his thoughts, his cheerful demeanor cracking at the seams.  
His next words came out in a whisper.  
“We thought you were dead, Itztli.”  
  
Ember flinched.   
The way her brother had pronounced her real name had torn a hole in her stomach, and she could feel her head start spinning with realization.  
“‘W… we’?” She asked feebly, a wave of heat crawling up her neck.  
“We, yes. Ma, Da, and me.” He rested his hands on his lap, shoulders drooping, fingers intertwined in a nervous dance.  
“I saw dad painting your urn, ‘Li.”  
The woman’s jaw dropped.  
“So you knew...”  
Tixoc’s outburst caught her off-guard, sending her pulse racing.  
“Of course we knew!!”, he snarled, jumping out of his seat.  
“Can you even imagine-- do you have any idea what we went through and--” His voice trailed off as he paced back and forth, blood surging to his cheeks.  
He finally stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers, and drew a long, shaky breath.  
“I- I’m sorry, I just...”  
“Tixoc.” The Watcher interrupted him. “How? How did you know?”  
She waited for her brother to sit down again before continuing. “I didn’t tell anyone. _How did you know_ ?”  
“News travel, Itztli. ” He dragged a hand down his face, regaining his composure.  
“Though I’ll admit I owe you an explanation.” He sighed again and raised his eyes to meet hers.  
“Half a year ago, I left Aedyr. I got a job that went… well. Surprisingly well, in fact.” He hid the shake in his voice with a cough.  
“Only-- you know how it is in my craft: at times you need to lay low and disappear right after setting the pieces in motion. And so I did. Boarded a ship back to Ixamitl, rested some, spent time at home.” He coughed again, harder this time. “The old chaps and I, we had a nice reunion. The only missing piece, Itztli, was you. We… we were planning to come visit you, in that belter castle of yours.”  
Ember felt her fists contract, but said nothing.  
“Just, we didn’t know if we would find you there, you know… Nobody knew where your duties as Roadwarden would have taken you, and when. We could have come all the way only to find you gone to the White March, or off to The Living Lands to meet some important bloke, like that one time. So we wrote you a letter, asking you whether you were at home.” He bit his lip, fighting against the wetness welling up in his eyes.  
“But, your reply never came. Instead, a page came running to us, blathering something about how the huge statue in your basement had been possessed by Eothas, and that your keep had been blown apart. No trace of you.”  
A sob clogged his throat, forcing him to pipe down for a moment.  
“I packed as fast as I could, and set out to the Dyrwood that very night. I… I’ve been to Caed Nua, Itztli. It was… ” He opened his arms in a helpless gesture.  
“I’ve never seen such devastation in my entire life. I’m sorry, Itztli, I’m so, so sorry...”  
Silent tears began rolling down his nose, which he promptly patted dry with a sleeve.  
“I thought you were bloody gone”, he reprised, voice harsh and nasal, a scowl plastered on his face.  
“As I stood there praying, this drunk lad came to me, telling me he’d seen them scoop you out of the wreckage and put you on a blasted sloop set to the Deadfire. I rode to Defiance Bay at once, and by sundown I’d joined the crew of a mercantile headed to the Archipelago. I landed in Neketaka three weeks ago, and couldn’t believe my ears when they told me the Watcher was alive and had been spotted sailing to Tikawara.” A faint smile brightened his features.  
“From there, I boarded a trader’s junk to the island, and… you know the rest.”  
The whisper of waves marked time in a slow rhythm, as they both stared at their feet without really seeing them.  
  
“Itztli”, Tixoc said, finally, “why didn’t you write?”  
Ember didn’t reply.  
She was striving to hide the quiver that mentions of both her family and Caed Nua had brought to her hands, guilt and fear taking turns to sink their claws into her guts.  
“I-- I was busy”, she spluttered suddenly.  
“You were… _busy?!_ ” Tixoc’s eyes went wide with scorn and fury.  
“Ha!! Now, that’s a good one. Very funny indeed: is there more where that came from?”   
He chewed on his tongue, knuckles popping under his nervous fidgeting.  
“You… you vanished without a word, Itztli. You let us, your very blood, waste away with dread while you were skidding your merry way to this blasted shitehole.”  
His face twisted in a snarl as he jumped on his feet once more, sticking a finger under her chin in a threatening gesture.  
“I knew the taste of power would get to your head eventually, but this…”  
A roar bubbled up his throat as his accent shed its Aedyran skin.  
_“You thrice-burnt viper bitch, does you heart pump blood or mere ashes?”_  
Ember couldn’t take it anymore.  
  
She leaped forth and slapped his brother’s hand away from her face, flames crackling madly as they raised to engulf her head and shoulders alike.  
_“I was DEAD!!”_ She howled.  
She watched as Tixoc deflated like a scared frog, his posture sagging abruptly.  
“...What?”  
“I died, Tixoc.” Her chest heaved with strained breaths, barely containing her mounting rage.  
“That night-- the night Caed Nua came crashing down, I lost more than you could ever imagine. I lost more than my fortune, and I’ve got plenty more to grieve, besides the hundreds friends and allies whose bones you saw scattered on those Gods-damned grounds.”  
She grabbed the hem of her shirt, yanking it off her, exposing the mangled net of scars etched on her torso.  
“My very soul got sucked out of me, and my life with it.” She went on, oblivious to her brother’s horror, pointing at the gash on her heart.  
“But death was too gracious a thing to have, wasn’t it?!” She asked to no one in particular, covering herself up again.  
“I was sent back. The Pallid Knight herself hurled me out of Hel and back into this broken shell, with no other purpose than having me act as her pet hound, thrown in the midst of the ocean to hunt down Eothas, cause the Gods are too ashamed to stick out their mugs after what their friend has d--”   
She stopped, hunching over in pain as Berath’s token scorched her essence.  
A voice rang in her skull, sending a shiver down her spine.  
_This is a warning, Watcher._  
When she recovered, she found her brother staring at her, shaking his head in disbelief.  
“You… it can’t be… you’re delirious, surely, there’s no other exp--”  
Words drowned in his throat as her sister’s fingers wrapped around his collar, yanking him closer.  
He gasped as her essence seeped into his brain, linking his mind with hers.  
He saw everything.  
He saw Eothas’ smoldering crown as he emerged from the soil, a storm coalescing around his figure.  
He heard the screams of hundreds, hundreds of men as their souls were ripped from their bodies, fueling the ire of the biawac overhead.  
He cowered in fear as Ember’s grief washed over him, locked with terror in a battle for dominance.  
Agony tore its way through his body, and he wailed as death closed its grip around his senses.  
He saw both of Berath’s aspects shepherd him through the Beyond, and felt the Knight’s words tolling in his chest.  
The world tilted as he began his descent into his sister’s form, muscles limp and sore with fever.  
  
When Ember released her psychic hold on him, he was shaking.  
She watched as he stumbled backwards, slouching against the wall.  
Beads of sweat rolled down his temples as he let himself slide downwards, seeking the cold comfort of the ground.  
He looked up and saw his sister towering over him, an arm extended in his aid.  
“One moment, please”, he said, raising a finger.  
“I need-- I need a moment.”  
Silence fell again as he regained his bearings, one breath at a time.  
“Well”, he then said, “quite the experience, that was! Bloody ciphers, the whole lot of ye.”  
He wrapped his fingers around Ember’s hand and propped himself up.  
“Do you believe me now?” She asked, without releasing her grip.  
Tixoc let a sigh escape his nostrils, sadness creeping into his features.

“I do, Itztli, I really do. I...” he swallowed, eyes downcast, an unseen weight bending his spine.  
“Listen, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything." He murmured.  
"I let grief cloud my judgement. I should never have snapped at you,'Li, let alone call you a--.”  
“A thrice-burnt viper bitch?”  
“... a thrice-burnt viper bitch, yes.”  
She squeezed his forearm, the spark of a smile brightening her otherwise taut face.  
“Don’t think about it. I _am_ Magran’s child after all.” She concluded.  
  
Tixoc’s arms closed in around her, engulfing her in a grateful embrace.  
They stood there, basking in each other’s warmth until adrenaline began dribbling off their systems, leaving only an empty, exhausted ache in its wake.


	4. Chapter 4

The evening rolled by along with the Splinter’s slow bobbing as it sailed its way towards the reddening sun.  
Ember slouched against the galley wall, a smile on her lips.  
She listened, raptured, as her crew chanted in unison, lead by her brother’s tuneful solo.

Softly, she began humming along, letting music carry her thoughts into a quiet pond of reflection.  
Two weeks had passed since her confrontation with Tixoc.  
They’d spit their hearts out, stripping their desperation bare in front of each other, only to see the weight on their chests grow lighter and their bond grow stronger.  
Just like countless times before.  
A sigh escaped her nostrils as she watched her sibling skid around the room, ample gestures accompanying his words as he sang an old Aedyran epic.  
He’d had the time to rest and restore himself after scouring half of Eora in search of her, and now, in the relaxed atmosphere of dinner, he looked at least two decades younger.

With him by her side, things seemed easier, she admitted. Familiarity had began soothing the alienating contours of the Archipelago, and even the circumstances of her mission seemed a tad less maddening now.  
She was glad to have him back.

Chitupec’s voice snatched her out of her reverie, prying a gasp out of her.  
“Captain, a Principi sloop has approached. They’re asking of you.”  
She blurted a quick thanks and followed him out on the bridge.  
“Oy, are you Captain Ember?”  
The man calling out to her was a burly bear of a corsair, and the reek of drink rode his breath in force.  
“In flesh and fire. What d’you need, sailor?”  
The man produced a small scroll, its seal bearing the insignias of the Consuaglo.  
“Furrante wants to talk to ya. Says it’s important.” He concluded, handing her the missive and returning to his mansions.  
“Fair winds, Cap’n.”  
“Fair winds,” she replied, scratching off the wax with a fingernail.  
A groan escaped her throat as she squinted at Furrante’s crooked handwriting, trying to decipher its content.  
“Ah, here you are!”  
Ember choked on a bit of saliva as her brother’s face appeared out of nowhere, hovering over her shoulder.  
“Fuck’s sake, Tix!!”, she coughed, placing a hand on her racing heart.  
“You spooked me to death.”  
“Pff, spare me the drama, ‘Li. Besides, it’s not my fault you’re always so tense.”  
He smirked, savouring her sister’s bitter expression.  
“But oh, a letter! Who’s that from? A secret admirer? Come on, you can tell me!”  
She rolled her eyes.  
“No, Tixoc: it’s a simple missive from Captain Furrante. Says he wants to talk to me in person, to offer me some kind of... business opportunity.” She let out a dry chuckle.  
“Go figure.”  
Tixoc’s eyebrows jolted upwards. “Furrante? Oh! You mean that scoundrel Serafen keeps blabbering about?”  
He poked her in the ribs.  
“Rubbing elbows with the big fish eh?”  
She swatted his hand away, resignation plain on her face.  
“No, Tixoc, I’m not trying to get in Furrante’s good graces. For the time being, at least. Think of it like… a tacit pact of mutual tolerance.”  
She crumpled the letter and threw it overboard.  
“Still, for every friend gained, there’s one less foe to deal with. And I’ve about had my fill of enemies. Beodul!” She then called out.  
“Set course for Dunnage! At once!”  
“Aye aye, cap!”  
She felt her balance hiccup as the Splinter jibed, following the bosun’s steer like a docile steed.  
The snapping of sails filled her ears as she made her way belowdeck, Tixoc following suit.  
“Sailors”, she announced, stepping into the galley.  
“Change of plans, we’re headed to Dunnage. Time to lay down the tankards and slip into your bunks. By morning, I want every damn soul on this ship to be as sharp as a Rauatai shooter and twice as wary, good and ready for whatever is to come. Understood?”  
She then placed a hand on her brother’s back and steered him towards their cabin, making him drop the beer he’d just snatched in the process.  
“And that goes for you as well, you insufferable pest.”  
  


 

\---

  


The Splinter rolled into Lifter's Refuge at sunrise, escorted by a Principi sentinel boat.  
Maneuvering had proven more difficult than anticipated, due to both an unfortunate turn of wind and the sheer number of ships and skiffs docked all around them.  
By the time they'd managed to moore, a distant bell was tolling 8.  
“Drop anchor”, she commanded, letting her gaze drift along the mangled rims of the pirate town.  
“What a shitehole.”  
She nodded as Tixoc's voice fleshed out her very thoughts, a frown knitting her brow.  
Her feet had barely touched shore when the sentinel approached. “Furrante’s waiting fer ya at the Beacon. Don’t want to make him wait.”  
“Very well”, she’d sighed.  
_Cause that’s exactly what I’ll do_ , she concluded in her mind.  
First of all, she took a stroll from the docks to King’s Coffin, where she’d indulged in an early lunch with her brother.  
Then she’d come back, recruiting Aloth and Edér for a late morning of sightseeing and ware-browsing at the Radiant Court.  
They were perusing the second hand guns sold by a toothless Orlan by the pier when Aloth’s comment caught Ember’s attention.  
“Tixoc? Are you feeling unwell?”  
Ember turned around to see her sibling stare at a point in the distance, color quickly draining from his cheeks.  
“No, I… I thought I saw...” He swallowed, and when he spoke again, his face was ashen.  
“Actually, yes: I’m feeling a tad on the queasy side. Think I’ll go back to the ship, if that’s not a problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”  
She watched as he headed back to the moors, fingers fumbling with his hood, hurry fueling his every step.  
  


 

\---  
  


 

The Watcher’s meeting with the head of the Consuaglo wasn’t an inch less boring that she’d originally imagined.  
The Captain had droned on about sightings of a mysterious vessel that seemed to ambush seafarers by materializing out of thin air.  
Or, well, _fog_ .  
The Floating Hangman, it was called: an undead galleon flying Darcozzi colors, and he seemed bent on having _her_ investigate the matter.  
He’d even… “convinced” a survivor of its most recent attack to bear witness, should she not believe his pompous words.  
She’d listened, she’d questioned, and finally she’d accepted to comply-- not that she’d have much choice, given the circumstances.  
If there was something she had learnt, it was never to cross a crime lord in his own court. Unless she were backed by considerable firepower, that was.  
Besides, she wanted nothing more than to cut this whole farce short: she had something nagging at her mind, and she’d rather take care of it asap.  
That something was Tixoc.  
She’d seen him go pale under the sun and beat an unexplained retreat, his shoulders twitching in that jittery way they did when he, as a kid, forced himself to hide something from both her and their parents.  
Which, now just like then, meant one thing and one thing only.  
He was in trouble.  
  
  
When she stepped back into daylight, the sky had started to redden.  
She traipsed her way back to the Splinter paying no attention to the teeming hordes of riff-raff that carried out their business all around her, nor to the delightfully evocative sunset whose glimmer toyed amidst the waves, a pinch of snuff and heavy thoughts her only company.  
The atmosphere on the bridge was one of calm routine. All sailors on duty were busy with menial work: cleaning the planks, priming the cannons, coiling the ropes.  
She nearly bumped into Tuliak as the dwarf barreled out of the hold, carrying a crate as big as her.  
“Hey, have you seen Tixoc?”, Ember asked.  
“What? Whoops, this thing is heavy-- I mean, no Captain, I didn’t.”  
The Watcher frowned. Where the Hel was he?  
She trotted down to the galley, attracting a few curious stares.  
“Uh, hi guys”, she said. “Tixoc ain’t here, I take it?”  
Serafen’s low grumble replied from the other end of the room.  
“I be sure I’ve seen the ol’ rascal pacing a mile and a half in front of yer cabin, Cap. He looked nothing too well.”  
A hand raised in thanks, she bolted towards her quarters, only to find them plunged in near darkness.  
  
She shook her head as her fingers wrapped around an old wall lamp, and squinted ever-so-slightly as its flame came to life with a crackle.  
In its light, she saw a bundle of blankets shifting in a corner, the same corner where her sibling’s makeshift bunk lay.  
“Tix”, she sighed, a look of motherly exasperation infusing her features.  
“Tix, what’s the matter?”  
No reply.  
She sighed again, squatting by his side.  
“Hey, I asked you something.”  
A grumble erupted from the heap.  
“I’m tired, Matchstick. Let me sleep.”  
She poked him on the shoulder, her touch somewhere between the affectionate and the irate.  
“Tired and you don’t go in the same sentence. Something’s the matter, I know.”  
Tixoc’s voice oozed with frustration as he poked his head out to confront her.  
“I’m just-- I need some time to myself, aye?! Cannot have a blink of privacy on this bloody ship, fuck’s sake.”  
Ember grunted, trying to keep her patience from flying out the porthole.  
“Listen, pal. I know you’re lying, and _you_ know I have ways to get to the truth. Only, I don’t want to use them. Not with you.” She rubbed her temple in an eloquent gesture.  
“Don’t make me do it, Tixoc.”  
Her veiled threat seemed to have stirred something in him.  
“Alright, alright: no need to come digging in my noggins, yes? I’ll tell you what.”  
He chewed on his tongue, frowning as he gathered his thoughts.  
“You know… what it is I do, aye?”  
She nodded. “Sure. You stick your nose in other people’s business on behalf of the best bidder. And a blade in their ribs too, if the situation calls for it.”  
He let out a dry chuckle.  
“Spot-on. Still, that would be oversimplifying things.”  
He cracked his neck, as he always did when buying time.  
“You see, in the last years, I made a name for myself. A bloody double-edged sword, notoriety is. It brought me plenty of benefits, sure: work, contacts, wealth. Operating in the big leagues, however, is… problematic. I made enemies, Itztli. And I did... _things_ , things I’m not too proud of.”  
He stopped, his eyes downcast and circled with black.  
“They come back, ‘Li. They keep coming back.”  
He leaned onto her as she squeezed his shoulders in a comforting embrace.  
“I think… I think I’ve grown paranoid. Today at the docks, I saw-- I got reminded of…”  
He groaned, pushing his palms against his face in a way that so closely resembled his sister’s.  
“It’s hard to explain, Itztli. And I’d rather not have to.”  
He looked at her, a plea in his eyes.  
Ember returned his stare, mouth drawn in a tight line.  
She suspected something more was at work, but she was all too accustomed to the scalding grip of trauma to intrude further.  
“Very well, Then. I guess I’ll let you rest now. And oh--”  
She reached for her belt and unhooked a hard leather pouch the size of a card deck.  
“It’s a mixture of svef and malcachoa I concocted. Helps with the nightmares. But careful not to exceed-- I’d hate having to explain my crew what you’re doing running around naked, talking to your invisible elephant friend.”  
Tixoc smiled faintly.  
“Thank you”, he said. “I’ll keep that in mind. And, sis, one last thing. Would it be a problem if...”  
He dipped a finger in the mixture and licked it clean, a pensive frown on his face.  
“Fuck me, this is good-- I mean, would it be much of a problem if I were to ask you to just...”  
His shoulders drooped.  
“To just leave this place? I’m sorry to say that, but it’s really doing a number on my nerves.”  
“Don’t worry”, she replied, “We’re setting sail for Neketaka this very night.”  
Tixoc smiled again, a bit brighter this time.  
“Thank you, Itztli. It means a lot.”  
“Don’t think of it. Now try and get some sleep. Gods know you need it. We both need it, in fact.”  
The hard surface of her bunk poked her in the ribs as she rolled over it, without even bothering to take her boots off.  
  
“Now pass me the malcachoa, eh?”  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Ember had risen early, that morning.  
She’d slipped out into the mist to check the Splinter’s course right as Chitupec announced a hearty “Land ahoy!”  
Dawn painted the golden contours of Neketaka at the horizon, its light glimmering softly amidst its ocean-swept coasts.  
She let out the smallest of sighs, relief filling her lungs along with the breeze.  
They’d been at sea for the best part of a week, and there was nothing more she’d wanted than for her feet to step onto firm, solid ground.  
She did not buzz with enthusiasm at the idea of having to rummage through some catacombs in search of clues about The Floating Hangman, but it was as good an excuse to touch land as any.  
Besides, it was something to do, and having something to do was important.  
Anything that helped her mind off the constant stream of doubts and anguish that plagued it was.  
Still, there was still some time to burn before they’d reach Queen’s Berth, and she knew exactly how to use it.  
She skidded belowdeck, making her way towards the galley.

The stove was still alive with glowing embers, and as soon as she’d fed it a bite of driftwood, it rewarded her with an instant bout of warmth.  
Once she’d placed her kettle on top of it, she turned on her heels and slipped back into her cabin.  
“Tixoc,” she said, poking her brother with the tip of her boot.  
A series of grumbles erupted from underneath the blankets, quickly turning into a fumbled Ixamitl.  
_“Please, mum, five more minutes...”_  
Ember sighed.  
“I’m not Mum, Tix. Now get up: it’s breakfast time.”  
She waited until her brother’s red head poked out of its covers, blinking her figure into focus.  
“Uh? Why, what… what time is it?”  
She shrugged. “Damned if I know: we’re some thirty minutes from Neketaka, I guess. Still, get a move on: I’m making us tea.”  
When Tixoc stumbled into the galley, she’d already put two cups on one of the benches, and was calmly nibbling on a morsel of hardtack.  
“Oh, good morning!” She said, pushing his cup closer so that he could grab it.  
“Morning”, he grunted, plopping on a stool and sluggishly sipping some of the spicy liquid.  
He reached out for the hartacks when her sister stopped him.  
“No. Take this instead,” she ordered, presenting him with a plate full of vegetable matter.  
“It’s Koiki. Eat some: you haven’t touched your veggies in days, and we don’t need to add scurvy to our ever-lengthening list of problems.”  
She observed as he gingerly took a sample of the fruit and tasted it with the tip of his tongue.  
“Hm. Not bad,” he declared, popping it into his mouth. “Tastes like peach. But sweeter.”  
“Take as much as you want”, she retorted, partaking of the treat.  
They sat in silence, drinking tea and eating Koiki, until Ember’s cup ran dry.  
“Tix,” she then started, “I wanted to ask you something.”  
Her brother sighed between chomps, rewarding her with a resigned look.  
“What?”  
“How do you feel?”  
He arched his brow.  
“Not too bad, all things considered. I feel… serene, in a way.” He stretched his arms, not even bothering to stifle his thunderous yawn.  
“Only, my muscles are awfully stiff. Think I’ll join you in your errands through the island, if you have nothing against it.”  
He threw his head back and pointed at his surroundings with a swirling motion of his finger.  
“Nothing to complain about your fine ship here, but… I could really use a change of scenery.”  
Ember nodded, switching her focus back to her meal.  
“Which brings me to mind...” Tixoc leaned forward and poured himself some more tea.  
“How was it, the change? I mean, from Caed Nua to… to this. It must have been quite a jump, aye?”  
She froze, a bit of fruit still stuck in her mouth.

Caed Nua was home.  
She’d never indulged in the luxuries her rank could have offered, preferring to treat her role of Roadwarden as something more akin to a honored duty.  
In those five years, she’d administered her grounds and the lives of their dwellers with method and discipline, scanning pages after pages of documents, filling heaps of parchment with her angular handwriting, and stepping away from her desk to fight first-hand on their behalf when required.  
She had a role, then, and a purpose.  
That purpose she’d spent her entire life trying to find, to no avail.  
Now, on the other hand…

She swallowed, fighting against the sudden dryness in her throat.  
_Don’t talk to me about Caed Nua ever again,_ she thought _._  
“Could be worse”, she croaked instead.  
“Could be raining.”  
Tixoc snickered, nearly choking on a bite of fruit.  
“Ha!! Now, that’s the spirit!” He concluded, raising his cup in toast.  
The clinking of pewter marked the Splinter’s final bobs as its anchor dropped with a splash.  
“Well, looks like we’ve reached our destination”, Ember observed, straightening her back and reaching for her satchel.  
“You go call the boys, I’ll wait for you on the docks. Let’s go seize the day while it’s still fresh.”

 

\---

 

Queen’s Berth was as charming as ever.  
Crisp air and warm sunshine accompanied their stroll amidst its streets, and after so much time spent packed in the sloop’s crowded quarters, even their climb to Periki Overlook didn’t feel excessively taxing.  
They followed along, chatting animatedly and taking in the wide array of people and structures that surrounded them while Aloth lead them towards The Dark Cupboard’s menacing entrance.  
“You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m in dire need of wizardry supplies. It won’t take long-- feel free to come browse with me, should you feel like it, however,” the mage said, a hand placed tactically on the doorknob.  
“Don’t worry, Aloth-boy,” Tixoc replied, leaning against the shop’s wall, a content smirk on his face.  
“We’ll wait for you here. It’s too much of a nice day to slip indoors so early.”

Ember watched as Aloth disappeared inside, leaving nothing but a trail of faint perfume in his wake.  
“Ah, wizards. They’re all the same,” her brother began, abruptly jerking forward and taking on Aloth’s mannerism in a near-perfect impression.  
“Watcher, I implore you: don’t allow Edér to adopt another cat!! The stench in this menagerie is insulting enough already!”  
He ended his performance with a characteristic hair-combing motion that made Edér hunch over in laughter.  
“Eothas gracious, Tixoc, that was-- that was _him!!_ How did you...”  
His cackle echoed in Tixoc’s chest as they both surrendered to their growing mirth.  
Ember’s clap caught them off-guard.  
“OK kids, that’s enough. Let’s try not to wake Iselmyr up before noon at the very least.”  
Edér chuckled again, wiping a tear off with a finger.  
“Alright, I’m sorry, I just… I love that fella so much. Ooh boy. Five years have passed, and he still does the thing with his fingers.” He drew a whistling breath and smiled to himself, placing his pipe between his teeth. “Good guy Aloth.”  
Tixoc nodded. “Good guy Aloth, aye. Bloke’s a riot when he wants.”  
He sighed, falling back on his spot against the wall.  
“Magran’s tits, it feels so surreal. Seeing you lot back together, after all this time, after… after all that happened.”  
They stood in silence for several seconds, letting the elf’s words sink in.  
“After all that happened”, the Watcher repeated, a veil of sadness cast on her features.

She was so lost in her ruminations she didn’t notice the sudden shift in her brother’s attitude.  
“Oh...”, she heard him mutter, his voice soon drowned by metallic creaking of the Cupboard’s door.  
“...fuck me sideways.”  
“Why, I’m glad to see you too, Tixoc”, Aloth replied, stepping into the sunlight, struggling to fit a spell list amongst the pages of his grimoire.  
“Shall we g-- Tix? Are you still unwell? You’re really starting to worry me, dear.”  
Ember raised her head and saw Tixoc’s jaw fall open.  
“No...”, he mouthed again, figure stiff with panic.  
_Oh, please, not again_ , Ember thought, following his gaze along the cluttered streets of the Overlook.  
“Tixoc, relax. There’s nothing ther--”  
“Shut up, Itztli.”  
Ember flinched, taken aback by the sting in her sibling’s tone.  
He could very well have slapped her.

Outrage mounting, she lurched towards him, a finger raised in warning, a swarm of insults buzzing in her mind.  
She couldn’t voice them, however.  
There was no time.  
Tixoc’s arm raised above his head, and in an instant, they were enveloped in smoke.  
Ember fell on her knees, a cough wracking her body, lungs and eyes burning wildly.  
She felt Edér’s hands closing on her shoulders and yank her out of that strangling cloud.  
“Gods damn you Ember! You and your timing both!”, she heard him say, as she fought with all her might to avoid gagging.  
She remained on the ground, wheezing and dry heaving for what felt like an eternity, a dozen stares aimed her way.  
“Something’s the matter?”  
She nearly choked on her saliva as the boots of a Mataru guard materialized at the edges of her vision.  
“Ah, please: pay no mind to us!” Aloth stepped in front of her, arms spread in a reassuring gesture. “We simply had a little… accident with one of our newly-bought items.” He cocked his head, pointing at the magic shop behind his shoulder.  
“I see.” The guard’s eyes darted from the Watcher to Aloth, to the Cupboard and back again.  
“Well, try not to handle magical implements out in the streets. And be more careful next time, Captain.” He touched his brow in salute before turning away.  
“Ngati keep you.”  
“Farewell!” Aloth replied, waving him off with a hand.  
When the Mataru had disappeared from view, he let a sigh of relief escape his nostrils and whirled towards their companions.  
“I don’t mean to sound indelicate, Itztli, but we’d better stop dawdling: we’re starting to attract all kinds of unwanted attention.”  
“Here, drink some water.” Ember grabbed Edér’s waterskin like her life depended on it, and sucked a few, frenzied gulps.  
When the pain in her chest subdued, she wrapped her fingers around the farmer’s bicep and pulled herself on her feet.  
“Berath’s squeaky Wheel...”, she murmured, her tone harsh and raw with soreness.  
She looked around, confusion and rage battling for dominance in her brain.  
A question surfaced on her lips, but Aloth was quicker.  
“Ah, another thing,” he started, gesturing at the empty spot at their shoulders.

“Your brother just vanished.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

A monsoon had cracked the sky overhead, sweeping Neketaka’s streets and pouring its rage onto its docks and cobblestones.  
White crests rode the waves, shaking the moored ships with relentless force.  
Ember saw the Splinter’s mast bobbing in and out of view as she made her way towards it, her muscles sore with fatigue, her heart heavy with worry.  
The deck was deserted, and the planks were so slick with rain Ember found herself skidding towards the quarterdeck without having a say in the matter.  
A bout of warmth welcomed her entrance belowdeck, accompanied by the muffled voices and cackles of her crew.  
She stepped inside her cabin and surrendered to a shiver.  
She was drenched to the bone, so much so even the flames atop her head had yielded to the extinguishing powers of hard rain.  
Her shirt flew across the room, soon followed by her every other piece of clothing.  
She was in the process of frictioning her horns with a tattered rag when her cabin door slammed open, prying a gasp out of her.  
“Em, I--- oh shit, sorry.”  
She turned around to see Edér’s back staring at her.  
“You saw me in worse shapes, Ed. No need to apologize”, she sighed, grabbing a pair of old breeches from her trunk.  
“No luck finding Tixoc, I take it?”  
“Nu-hu.” Edér’s eyes met hers, and they were awfully tired.  
“Been up to the crown and all the way down to the Gullet. Asked every fella in sight, I did… no trace of your brother.”  
He took a deep breath and swiped a wet tuft of hair away from his face. “I’m sorry, Em.”  
The Watcher jerked her head back, a silent curse on her lips.  
“It’s alright, Ed, thank you. Now go change your clothes. I’ll go make some grog: come back when you’re ready.”

  


* * *

 

The scorching, sweet concoction sent a pleasant burn down Ember’s throat, soothing her aches a fraction.  
Edér, however, seemed more interested in the darkening horizon, gaze stuck to the cabin’s porthole.  
“Shit, it’s getting dark”, she heard him mutter.  
“Wonder where Aloth is.”  
Ember shrugged.  
“He probably sought refuge in some tavern or the other. It’s raining stelgaers, after all.”  
She paused, a spark of hope fluttering in her chest.  
“‘Sides, who knows: maybe he managed to find Tix.”  
The soldier grumbled, smoke slithering out of his nostrils in thick streams.  
“I dunno. What if he got himself into trouble? You know how he is, and Iselmyr...”  
“I trust him, Ed. And Iselmyr too.” She felt her fingers clench around her mug, her eyebrows knit in a tight frown.  
“It’s my brother I have no faith in. Not anymore.”  
Edér nodded absently.  
“He’s been acting up, uh?”  
“He has.” She shook her head.  
“There’s something about him, these days… something I can’t quite put my finger on.”  
“Did you guys talk?”  
“So we did.” Ember felt herself deflate, a pall of weariness clinging to her soul.  
“He told me how he spent months following my trails. How he found me, and how relieved he was that I… wasn’t dead. Still, I didn’t sense an ounce of relief in him.”  
She pinched her eyelids shut, her complexion ashen and taut.  
“I didn’t do it on purpose, of course, but… I cannot avoid feeling the wits of those I share so much with. And Tixoc’s… scared me.”  
Edér waited in silence, quietly munching on her words.  
“Last night, he had a nightmare. No matter what I did, he wouldn’t wake up. When I plunged in, trying to quell his turmoil, I found him small and beaten, surrounded by the ghosts of his own mind. They were tall and dark, too dark for him to rise and fight.”  
She blinked the image away, and pressed a palm against her forehead.  
“This is not my brother, Edér. This is not the reckless kid with the strong, sunny essence I saw come to the light at Spring Dawn sixty two years ago, who I saw grow too big for his boots time and time again. This is someone else.”  
“Time changes people, Em.” Edér squeezed his hands together. In the faint glow of the wall lamp, he looked older than ever.  
“We’ve all changed.”  
He paused, tinkering with his pipe without really meaning it.  
“I know I’ve changed. And you have changed too, Em. At times I have to remind me who you are, or I’m scared I wouldn’t recognize ya.”  
His chuckle was dry and humourless.  
“I don’t mean only cause you got thinner than a runt piglet, since what happened with... with Eothas.” He swallowed his god’s name like a sour juice.  
“It’s also for the way you talk, and move, and look at people. Like there’s this rage in ya, and it doesn’t know how to come out.”  
He lit up his pipe, the crackling of his match scratching at the edges of silence.  
“And you’re right: Aloth’s changed too. I should give him a break.”  
The sudden bustle of footsteps interrupted their train of thoughts.  
“FYE AND… and COXFITHERS TO THIS!!”  
Ember’s eyes locked with Edér’s.  
“It’s him,” they whispered in unison, jumping on their feet.

  
The wizard stood outside of Ember’s door, a puddle at his feet, Iselmyr blinking out of his leer.  
He was soaked and, by the look of it, incredibly pissed.  
“Any luck?” Edér asked, handing him a piece of cloth.  
“What d’ye think?!” Iselmyr replied, squeezing the moisture out of their hair.  
“Turned every stone round the Citadel an’ the honkin’ Stairs. Looked aboot till our eyebaws got raw, conne find a whiff o’ the bampot. Froze our twig off, we did, blast the weather.”  
Aloth shuddered, sliding back into his skin.  
“What Iselmyr is trying to say is...” He exhaled, shoulders drooping with exertion.  
“... Itztli, I’m sorry. I couldn’t find Tixoc anywhere.”  
The Watcher nodded, mouth drawn in a tight line.  
“Thank you anyway. Now go: get yourself dry. I’ll get you something hot to drink.”  


 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry, Itztli, I’m awfully sorry.”  
Ember shook her head, pushing a warm cup of grog between Aloth’s fingers.  
“No, pal: I am the one who’s sorry. I mean, look at you.”  
She watched as the wizard wiped a drop of snot away from his nose.  
“You’ve been sneezing non-stop for the past half hour.”  
“Yes, I... ” He coughed, turning his head away for a second.  
“I don’t cope well with abrupt temperature drops. Aedyr is much more… stable, in that regard.”  
Edér’s chuckle enveloped them in a cloud of tobacco smoke.  
“Ah, classic Aloth. Remember that time in the White March, when I had to carry you all the way up to Stalwart ‘cause you’d plain blacked out? Ha! Those were the days...!”  
“Oh, ha-ha, that’s very funny, Edér, very funny indeed: thank you for reminding me”, the elf replied, wrapping his blanket tighter around his shoulders.  
“ _Anyhow_ ”, he then groaned, raising his eyes to look out of the porthole. “I won’t hide I’m worried about Tixoc, Itztli. I cannot quite explain it, but… I have a bad feeling about it.”  
He sighed.  
“Poor old chap. I hope he’s doing alright.”  
Ember let herself sink in her chair.  
“So do I, Aloth. So do I.”

* * *

 Ember couldn’t sleep.

Edér and Aloth had long retired when she’d finally crawled to her bunk, an arm behind her neck, eyes glued to the ceiling.  
Every single noise pinched her nerves to full alert, ears perched in hope of hearing Tixoc’s familiar footsteps approaching.  
Yet, they never came.  
Dawn found her consciousness waning, replaced by the black ebb of exhaustion.  
Nightmares fought their way behind her eyelids, launching her down a spiral of fear and anguish that made her jaw clench, and sent her fingers clawing at the air.  
When her cabin’s door slammed open once more, she screamed.  
Before she could make out who or what, a pair of hands wrapped around her collar, shaking her, choking her.  
She kicked and thrashed, struggling to free herself from that unrelenting grip, until…  
"Itzli!! Itzli, it’s me!!”  
She gasped, trying to calm her racing heart.  
Before her stood her brother, eyes bloodshot and circled with black, sweat glistening on his forehead.  
“TIXOC!! Godsdamn you, what--”  
“There’s no time to explain! They found me, Itztli, they--”  
A muffled shout interrupted him.  
“Tixoc Tlacatl! You can stop hiding now!”  
The voice came from the docks, and bore a heavy Aedyran accent.  
Ember felt her shoulders drop, dragged down by the weight of realization.  
“Tixoc”, she said, her tone low and weary.

  
“What did you do this time?”


	7. Chapter 7

The morning light wounded Ember’s eyes as she stepped on abovedeck, her brother glued to her heels.  
On the pier, pistols in hand, stood six figures, clad in the insignia of…  
“The Doemenels.”

Ember’s eyebrows shot upwards as she glared at her brother, tension surging through her in waves.  
“Oh, good morning, Captain! I’m sorry we disturbed you so early in the day and-- oh my...”  
The woman talking was clearly the head of the group. The Watcher looked as her gaze darted from her to the Caed Nua flag waving atop the Splinter’s mast and back again.  
“What gives, Tixoc? Hiding under the wing of our clan’s old allies?!”  
The woman erupted in a shrill cackle, a tuft of red hair slipping over her eyes.  
“My my, who have we here… The Lady of Caed Nua herself, in fire and horns! And so far from home, too!”  
She grinned, bowing her head an inch.  
“But where are my manners? Ascley Doemenel, at your service.”  
Ember waited as the woman straightened herself before continuing.  
“I’m truly contrite we happened to meet under such unpleasant circumstances. But don’t worry, Captain! As soon as this charade is over, I’m buying you a pint or twelve at the White Mare.”  
She then turned to her lackeys, any trace of mirth vanished from her voice.  
“Go get him.”  
The five figures leaped forward, arms stretched towards the Splinter’s ladder.  
Before they could reach it, however, Ember’s roar erupted overhead.  
“HALT!! The first soul to touch this ship will regret it for this and every lifetime to come, I swear on my honor.” Her gun sway threateningly towards them, causing them to freeze.  
Once the gang had fallen back in line, she reprised.  
“Now. Would someone-- any fucking one-- care to explain what in Hel’s going on?!”  
Ascley chuckled again, a vein of hysteria creeping in her words.  
“Ah, Captain, you need to excuse us, but we’ve been chasing that scoundrel for the best part of two years, and we’re… impatient to see him meet his fate. Still! I understand your confusion: I’d wager the little worm has kept his lips good and shut about the whole matter, hmm?”  
She shook her head, baring her yellowish teeth.  
“What happens, my dearest Captain, is that that miserable excuse for a man”, she pointed a finger at Tixoc, who cowered away like a beaten dog, “was handed with a very, very important task. But you had to butcher it, didn’t you, Tix? Sent us all down the scupper, innit, my sweetest plains flower? Come on, tell the Cap! Like good boys should always do...”  
Tixoc met Ember’s gaze with a flinch.  
“It’s true, ‘Li. It’s all true.”  
“And now”, Ascley carried on, “he owes us. A ton of money, he does: millions, four, to be exact.”  
Ember couldn’t believe her ears.  
“But what did you do instead of repaying us, eh, Tixoc-baby? You made yourself scarce, that you did!” She opened her arms in a matter-of-fact gesture.  
“Too bad we have eyes and ears all over Eora. Still think you’re that smart, eh, elfie-boy? Want to play another round of hide and seek with me? I don’t think so.”  
Ember clutched the bow of her ship, blood draining from her brain at vertiginous speed.  
“Four millions...”, she mouthed, her breath caught in her throat.  
“Four millions...”  
She bit her lip, hard, steadying herself.  
“I see. And what are you planning to do with him?”  
Ascley grinned, steepling her fingers.  
“It’s very simple, Captain of Caed Nua”, she replied.  
“He’s going to serve two hundreds and sixty four years as a slave in service of Master Raegar Doemenel. If he’s lucky, he’ll survive to end his life as a free man.”  
She cocked her head. “Unless Master Raegar has different plans for him, that is.”  
A rush of blood coated Ember’s vision with red.  
“Now, dearest of Captains dear, if you have nothing against it, we’d kindly ask you to hand your little cabin boy over to us, so we can all forget about this dreadful incident and carry on with our days, hm? What say you?”  
Ember straightened her back, standing as tall as her elven physique could allow.  
“I’m afraid I cannot do it, Ascley, for Tixoc is not a mere cabin boy. My very blood runs in his veins.”  
She looked her in the eyes as Ascley’s jaw fell limp.  
“You heard it right. Tixoc is my brother.”

She slid down the ladder and on the moor as an stream of whispers erupted amongst the Doemenels.  
“In the name of the old alliance that once linked our houses and earned your family undisputed dominion over Defiance Bay, I am asking you to meet but one request of mine.”  
She took a deep breath and set her fiery gaze straight into Ascley’s.  
“Let’s find a compromise. I shall put myself and my ship in service of repaying my brother’s debt. I have no gold, nor is it as easy resource to come by in the Archipelago. In its stead, I will bring you whatever you and your superiors will see adequate. What do you say?”  
She extended a hand, only to close it on the grip of her pistol when Ascley’s mouth twisted into a furious grimace.  
“Sonofabitch. Son of a downtrodden, excoriated, stinking bitch.”  
She stood in place as the woman slapped a palm on her forehead.  
“Twenty two months I’ve been looking for this bastard, and now… now, this.”  
Ember frowned as, to her great surprise, her interlocutor’s lips bent into an abrupt smile.  
“But I cannot very well refuse a favor to the Captain Lady of Caed Nua now, can I?”  
She reached out for Ember’s hand, and shook it with nervous enthusiasm.  
“You have yourself a deal, dear. We’ll meet tomorrow, in this very place. We shall discuss the final terms of our… arrangement then. Farewell, Captain of Caed Nua.”  
The Watcher stood still, observing the Doemenel’s capes sway in the wind as they disappeared, swallowed by Neketaka’s crowded guts.

When she climbed back on board, her chest felt like a ticking time bomb.  
“What was that fuss all about?” Aloth asked, alert plain on his face.  
Ember ignored him, pushing the door to belowdeck with enough force to kill a man.  
She stormed into the galley and clamped the edges of a nearby bench in an effort to keep herself from shaking.  
“Out”, she then ordered, causing a small swarm of sailors to abandon their meals and dive out of the room.  
“B-but Captain, I’m in the middle of preparing today’s lunch and--” Irrena’s protest was met with the most horrible scowl she’d ever seen.  
“OUT!!” Ember shouted, sending a bottle flying against the wall, its glassy scream accompanying the cook’s hasty retreat.  
“Em, Em, calm down, please: you shouldn’t...” Edér swallowed his words as Tixoc snuck into the room, attracting her livid attention.  
“Itztli, please, I didn’t--”  
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Her Aedyran faltered under the weight of her fury, making way to a harsh Ixamitl.  
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth, you plague-ridden carrion??”  
Tixoc raised both hands, as if to shield himself from his sister’s explosion.  
“I-- I’m sorry, I just...” He exhaled a shaky breath, cheeks as white as a ghost’s.  
“With all you’ve been through, I couldn’t bring myself to. I would have worried you madly and--”  
“HA!!! Oh yeah, cause this is sooo much better, isn’t it?!”  
She let herself fall on a stool, fingers clawing at her boiling forehead.  
“Four millions worth of gold…two hundreds and sixty four fucking years of slavery…”  
Aloth tip-toed behind her, a mug in his hand.  
“Itztli, I beg you: try and get a hold on yourself. You’re working yourself into a fit, I fear. Here, drink some water.”  
She fought against the impulse of slapping his hand away. Instead, she closed her grip around it and downed the liquid in a single gulp.  
“Good! Now, why don’t you start explaining what’s going on? I bet you’ll feel better afterwards.”  
Edér nodded. “Aloth’s right. We’re your friends: we’re here to help. You can tell us.”  
Ember broke into a humourless laugh.  
“Me?! Oh, no: it’s not me the one who needs explaining, here!”  
She threw a searing glance at her brother.  
“Tixoc? We’re all ears.”  
She watched as her brother slouched against the wall, eyes watery and downcast.  
“You’re right. You’re all right, I… I lied.”  
He stopped, letting himself slide down on the floor, where he remained.

“Two years ago, I left Aedyr. Only, it wasn’t due to a deliberate choice, nor because I wished to take some time off after a job done well. On the contrary.”  
He brought his knees to his chest and laced his fingers around them.  
“I am an agent of the shadows. A spy, if you will. I have been working on behalf of others for more than a decade, and in the last few years, my fame soared. I began serving the wealthy and powerful, killing, lying and deceiving for their benefit. Two years ago, I got rewarded with the opportunity of a lifetime. The Doemenels themselves asked for my service, and I jumped at the chance.”  
He swallowed, and his tongue felt heavier than an anvil  
“My task was simple. I was handed a parcel, a parcel I should have delivered to a certain ship captain. In secret, of course. Now, I don’t know the exact nature of its contents-- it wasn’t my place to be told-- but I know it was linked to the biggest smuggling operation the southern coast of Aedyr had seen in decades. I… I shouldn’t have botched it. I should have been careful, but… after years of success, I’d gotten cocky. I was sloppy in covering my tracks: I didn’t do it fast enough, well enough. Besides...” He sighed, hiding his face behind his knees. “... one night, I had too many pints. Too many to think straight. They loosened my tongue, and I ended up spilling the marbles, swanking to one of my most trusted friends… or so I thought. Later than night, I was waylaid.”  
He lowered the collar of his shirt just enough to show the jagged edges of a scar.  
“I was left for dead at the corner of a street. My parcel was stolen, and the docks were set on fire. Five ships were lost that night. Doemenel ships, all of them.” He clenched his jaw, lost in his own regret.  
“Luckily for me, I still had allies. I woke up aboard a ship bound to the Republics, burning with the worst of fevers. It took me months to recover. When we touched shore, I could barely walk. Still, I mingled with the people there, posing now as a beggar, now as a dock worker. Whenever I spotted Doemenel agents in the area, I’d flee to a different city. When enough time had passed, I used the last of my savings to book a passage home. I knew my chasers would catch up with me, eventually, but before that were to happen, I was set on riding to Caed Nua, and having my sister intercede on my behalf.  
When I learned what had come down, I… “ He paused, suddenly verklempt.  
When he resumed speaking, his voice was shaking.  
“The rest you know already. I’m sorry, Itztli. I should have told you everything. Yet, after what you’ve… you’ve shown me, I couldn’t muster the courage to. ‘Sides… fuck me, I didn’t imagine-- I couldn’t imagine they’d follow me all the way to here, to this shitehole of an Archipelago! I escaped Defiance Bay because I knew it was Doemenel territory, but here… I would never think… I let my guard down and...” his sentence trailed off, replaced by a frustrated growl.  
“... and now he owes them a fortune. And we either cough up whatever they’ll us to when they’ll tell us to, or he’ll be brought back to Aedyr, where he’ll stay as a slave for the best part of three centuries”, Ember concluded in his stead.  
She saw Aloth collapse on a chair, fingers raised to cover his lips.  
“You… you won’t allow this to happen itztli, will you?”  
She shook her head. “Not until my heart will pump blood. Which won’t be for much longer, I’m afraid”, she said, putting a hand on her pounding chest.

“Edér, be a treasure and go fetch me some rum, will ya?”


	8. Chapter 8

The night brought no comfort.  
After his confession, Tixoc hadn’t exchanged a single word with his sister, preferring to give her a wide berth.  
He’d long retired when he finally heard the cabin door creaking on its hinges.  
Ember hadn’t acknowledged his presence in any way.  
Instead she’d just collapsed on her chair, elbows resting on her desk, hands pressed against her face.  
She had sat there, in complete darkness, for what felt like an eternity.  
She looked lonely, Tixoc observed, and old.  
Older than she was, older than he’d ever seen her.  
The skin under her eyes was dark and taut, and the fiery creases in her visage seemed to have dug their way deeper into her flesh.  
He lay motionless, trying to make himself as small as possible.  
He would have given anything to melt away into the dark and disappear, leaving no trace.  
A pang of guilt clawed at his stomach when he heard her break into a quiet sob.  
He bit his lip, mustering the courage to voice the apology that squeezed his lungs.  
“‘Li?”, he whispered, finally.  
Ember turned around, exhaustion etched in her features.  
“Listen, I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Itztli, I’ve never been so wretchedly sorry in my entire life.”  
He swallowed, tears welling up, stinging his eyes.  
“Will you forgive me?”  
The Watcher shook her head.  
“I don’t want your apology.” She averted her gaze, fingers pressed hard against her forehead.  
“And you don’t need my forgiveness.”  
She sighed, shoulders hunching under an unseen weight.  
“What we both need is for dawn to come, and the Doemenels with it. We’ll see what they want, and we’ll move from there.”  
Tixoc clutched the rim of his blanket as a shipwrecked sailor would a bit of driftwood.  
“Do you… do you think they’ll accept your proposal?”  
“They have to”, she replied, caressing the hilt of her sabre with a thumb.  
“If not, well...” She sighed again.  
“We’ll add some more souls to Berath’s tally. Be those souls theirs or… ours.”  
Tixoc groaned.  
“You should have let them take me, Itztli.”  
Her slap hit him straight on the cheek, prying an outraged yowl out of him.  
“No kin of mine will spend his life in chains, Tixoc.” Her growl choked his protest in his throat.  
“Not until I’ll be around to prevent it.”  
Tixoc massaged his face, in equal parts ashamed and heartened.  
“Thank you, Itztli.” He then whispered, slowly turning his back to her.  
“Thank you.”  
“You’ll have time to thank me after this mess will be over. Now try to get some rest”, she concluded, slouching back in her chair.

 

* * *

The first morning lights found her pacing on the docks, face a mask of impatience.  
When Ascley’s figure emerged from the crowd overhead, she felt her pulse quicken.  
“Ah, Lady Captain of Caed Nua!”, she heard her crow.  
“As punctual as a Vailian clock! You really like living up to your name, hm?”  
“Ascley”, she replied, extending her hand and shaking the woman’s in a vigorous pump.  
“I’m glad you came.”  
“The pleasure is all mine, Captain! But let’s trim the fat, yes? We have some juicy, beefy business to discuss, after all.” She winked, placing both her palms on her hips.  
“So! I spoke with Raegar Doemenel, and… you ready, dear Captain Lady dear?!”  
Ember had to make a conscious effort to stop herself from wringing her neck.  
“I am. State your terms.”  
She watched as Ascley raised three fingers, waving them mockingly one inch from her nose.  
“We ask of you no less than three crates of luminous adra… to be delivered right here, were we’re standing.”  
Ascley’s laughter echoed in her skull, shrill and menacing.  
“So, Captain! What do you say?”  
Ember straightened her back, matching the woman’s height.  
“It’s a deal”, she concluded.  
Their palms met again, their gaze unflinching.  
“Very well, my dearest.” Ascley then crooned, whirling on her heels and heading back into Neketaka’s bowels.  
“You have five days’ time.”  


* * *

  
  


Ember downed another ale as the White Mare’s ruckus drilled a hole in her brain.  
She’d been trying to get Rosata De Minenti, an uptight Vailian ship guard, to loosen her tongue by rubbing it with alcohol, while Aloth did the same with a small group of Aedyran sailors, and Edér had taken on the duty of breaking bread with a bunch of privateers down in the Gullet.  
Empty tankards and bursts of inane chatter chased one another until the Crown’s bell tolled the 27th hour, and she found herself out in the streets, clinging to Aloth’s arm like a sailor in a tempest.  
“We’re goin tae rue this...” Iselmyr said, swaying dangerously to the left.  
“Speak for-- _hic--_ for yoursel’...”  
Ember replied, stumbling on her very feet.  
“I’ve been regretting my every choice in… _in life_ for the last four hours at the very...”  
She stopped, suddenly nauseous. “... at the very least. Now, if you’ll excuse me...”  
She pulled away, doubling over as she spewed the contents of her stomach on the pristine cobblestones.  
Aloth’s mouth twisted in disgust.  
“Berath’s Wheel, Watcher, this is absolutely hid--” his eyes went suddenly wide, and he brought a hand to his lips.  
Soon enough, he’d slipped by her side, joining in on her gut-cleansing endeavour.  
Edér raucous laughter echoed in the night as the man approached, a skip in his step, a cloud of smoke trailing in his wake.  
“Aw, look at you two! Had a bit too much fun, I take it?”  
He reached for Aloth’s braids, quickly swiping them away from the mage’s face.  
“Thank y-- eeurgh!!” Aloth groaned, before resuming his heaving.

Interminable seconds passed, marked by Edér’s soft chuckle as the two elves got their bearings, leaning one against the other in an attempt to catch their breath.  
“Very well”, Ember then said, wobbling on her feet.  
“What did… what did we get out of this mess?”  
Aloth was the first to reply.  
“You mean aside from a thund-- thundering headache?”  
He rested one elbow on her shoulder and a hand on Edér’s and together they started traipsing towards the docks.

“Yea, ‘side from that. I got a name, the… the Marena do Spirento. It’s a--” She squeezed her eyes shut, swallowing another bout of queasiness.  
“--a Vailian cargo ship headed to to the...”  
“To the Republics, aye.”, Aloth completed for her.  
“From what I gathered, it’s bound to leave for Ancenze some time this week, with a...”  
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose hard between his fingers.  
“A cargo of luminous. A pity I couldn’t pry more precise information out of those lads.“  
Edér purred, a content smile brightening his features.  
“Don’t worry, pals. I got you covered.”  
He took a long drag off his pipe and resumed.  
“The MdS is setting sail tomorrow at 5 pm. It’s a junk, and it’s understaffed. Its captain is a real asshat, and most of the shipment guards are cheap mercenaries she likes draggin’ on board when they’re too drunk to say no.”  
Ember looked at him, half impressed, half relieved.  
“Woah Ed, that’s, uh, quite some detailed data you gathered. How did you do it?”  
The soldier chuckled. “Got my way with people. ‘Sides...”  
He patted Ember on the back with enough force to send her staggering  
“Unlike you guys I can take a few ales.”  
She gurgled an insult and spat out a glop of bile in the water below.  
“At least it sounds like it won’t be too hard a target. I’m sorry for those poor fuckers on board though.”, she whispered, wiping her mouth dry.  
Aloth’s gasp forced her to turn around too quickly for her headache’s comfort.  
“Are you… are you planning to board them? Truly?!” He asked, shock plain on his face.  
Ember saw his fists clench, a familiar star of rage dawning on his brow.  
“I thought better of you, Itztli.”  
She returned his scowl, alcohol stirring something ugly at the bottom of her essence.  
“Listen here, pal,” she started, waving a finger underneath his chin.  
“I’d rather stain my hands with the blood of a thousand mercenaries than seeing my-- _my very brother_ sold to slavery. Besides, do you have any better ideas?!”  
The wizard averted his gaze, voice cracking with indignation.  
“I… wouldn’t it be more reasonable to just… negotiate with them?”  
Ember laughed an angry laugh.  
“Ooh, now, that’s an amazing proposal! How do you imagine I’d pull this off, eh? I have no more money, Aloth. I lost everything-- my fortune, my friends, my very fucking soul! Do you just suppose they’d hand me the goods out of sheer compassion?!”  
Aloth flinched.  
“We could at least… at least try and steal the crates, we--“  
“HOW?! D’you-- d’you just think no one would notice three idiots led by a walking torch strutting out of their hold with three crates worth of adra?? Did you just puke your brains out along with the rest?!”  
He exhaled, tiredness creeping in his gestures.  
“You’re right, I-- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--”  
Ember, though, couldn’t stop.  
“What, do you think I’m enjoying this? Do you think I didn’t weigh my choices tenfold, is that it? Do you think I wouldn’t give my bloody life to be anyone but me, these days??”  
Edér stepped in, voice low and soothing.  
“Em, Em, please calm down: this is uncalled f--”  
She ignored him, pushing him out of her way.  
“You’re a hypocrite, Aloth.”  
The elf’s muscles tensed up, a dangerous glimmer in his eyes.  
“Careful, Watcher. You’re overdoing it.”  
She, however, did not listen.  
“And know what? Know what?! I will wipe my ass with your stupid Aedyran judg--”  
Iselmyr’s punch hit her square in the jaw, dropping her like a sack of potatoes.  
When she stirred awake, she found Aloth towering over her, fists on the ready.  
“Ooh, Watcher: ye really got his gaff now!!” Iselmyr cackled, a smirk on her lips.  
Before she could think it through, Ember found herself leaping forward, head bent low.  
Her horns impacted against Aloth’s armor with a bony crunch, sending them both rolling on the planks.  
The Godlike’s grip tightened around the wizard’s robes, only for his knee to wedge itself violently between her ribs.  
A trail of spit erupted from her lips as she found herself splayed on her back, Aloth’s hand hovering inches from her nose.  
She flinched, readying herself for a blow that never came.  
Instead, she felt herself being lifted on her feet, and the gentle pressure of two hands on her shoulders.  
“No hard feelings, aye?”  
When she’d stabilized herself, she saw Edér leaning against the railing, a steady stream of smoke swirling out of his nostrils.  
“You finished?”, he grumbled. “Feelin’ better at least?”  
Ember briefly met Aloth’s gaze before focusing on a spot between her feet.  
“Well, yeah...”  
“I… suppose so?”  
“Good.” He strutted towards them, spreading his arms.  
“Now, apologize.”  
He grabbed both and pushed them closer.  
Aloth was the first one to yield.  
“I’m sorry, Itztli. I understand what you’re going through, and I should never have questioned your decisions.”  
“No no, Aloth: I’m the one needs apologizing. You’re not a hypocrite, and I’ll always take your judgment into great consideration. I just… can’t always think straight, nowadays.”  
Their fingers met, their handshake soon turning into an embrace.  
They looked each other in the eyes and broke into a tired smile before motioning Edér to join them.  
“Come on, old pal: come, give us a hug.”  
The man sighed. “Just like back in Stalwart.” He then wrapped his arms around his friends, lifting them up in the process.  
“When will you two learn not to blow each other’s top off, eh?” He said, ruffling Aloth’s hair and giving Ember a sound pat between the horns.  
“Come now: it’s late. You both oughta get some sleep. And water, plenty. Gods know you need it.”

 

* * *

  
  


The next morning found the Splinter ablaze with preparations.  
Armload of supplies and crates of cannonballs were brought in, the deck wiped cleaned, the cannons primed.  
The crew knew what it meant.  
Still, the official statement had to wait till the midday sun shined high in the sky, bathing the ship’s prow in warmth as it skidded through the waves.  
Ember had gathered her men on the weatherdeck, wearing the same, commanding expression she always did in such circumstances.  
“Sailors”, she’d started, “today is a crucial day.” She let her gaze wander amidst the curious stares all around her, taking them in, one by one.  
“Today, we fight for honor. We’re bound to the western gulf of Neketaka, where we’ll wait in ambush of a Vailian ship. Marena Do Spirento is her name, and she carries luminous.”  
She paused, trying with all her might to believe the words she was about to utter.  
“We are no thieves. For us, that adra isn’t mere coin, but a key: the key to free my brother from slavery’s wicked chains.” She took a deep breath before resuming.  
“No kith on this ship will ever suffer the whip of a master, not until I will be its captain. Today, I will fight on behalf of family. Tomorrow, I’d do the same for any of you.”  
“Aye cap, well fucking said!” Serafen’s comment roused a round of cheering, sending a jolt down her spine.  
“When I first stepped onto this deck, I told you something. I told you that, as the commander of this ship, I’d give you my everything. And I always hold up to my word. So, on this day, I will ask you to do the same.” She spread her arms. “Are you with me?!”  
A loud roar erupted from all over, shaking the Splinter from bow to stern.  
She smiled, clasping her hands together in gratitude.  
  
Without a word, she then whirled on her heels and took command of the wheel. 


	9. Chapter 9

Dark clouds had begun coalescing overhead, hiding the reddening sun behind a curtain of rain.  
Time had slipped away fast, faster than Ember could tolerate.  
When her cabin clock had marked the fifth hour her muscles had tensed, bearing the weight of her decision.  
Hands shaking madly, she’d reached for her coral snuff, shoving a generous dose under her nostrils.  
White overcame her vision as she savoured the sting, her essence buzzing with newfound excitement.  
She let her fingers wrap around the spyglass and bolted abovedeck.  
Stillness reigned over the horizon as she scanned the endless expanse of water before her, a silent prayer in her heart.  
Two hours passed, marked by the slow creaking on the planks under her feet.  
“They’re late”, she muttered to no one in particular.  
A hand squeezed her shoulder, a soft reassurance hidden in its touch.  
She turned to see Edér standing behind her, Aloth and Tixoc by his side.  
“We’re here, Em. We’re with you.”  
A smile found its way to her lips, its quiver betraying her fear.  
In an impulse, she spread her arms and enveloped the three in an embrace.  
She didn’t say anything. She simply stood there, a scorching void in her guts, clinging to their bodies as if afraid it’d be the last time.  
For she was.  
When she let go, she felt herself wither.  
She looked all in the eyes, studying their drawn visages.  
“Please”, she said, “be careful.”  
A distant sloshing sent her pulse racing.  
She whirled on her heels, spyglass on the ready.  
At the other end of the lens, the Marena do Spirento slipped its way out of Neketaka’s coast.  
“Ship ahoy!” She shouted.  
“Hoist the Principi flag!”, she then ordered, darting behind the helm.

The Splinter jerked forth, its sails snapping in the mounting wind.  
“Full speed ahead! Don’t let them get away!”  
The Marena’s bell began ringing madly, rousing its crew.  
Shouts erupted from aboard as the enemy sailors scurried in position.  
“Pirates!”, she heard the captain yell.  
Ember scowled, steering the ship with calculated precision.  
“Man the port cannons!”, she bellowed, rage and guilt piercing her stomach.  
“FIRE!!”  
Thunder accompanied the roar of cannons as the lmperials spat their fury at their foe.  
Screams confirmed a hit, and the Marena’s deck erupted in a shower of splinters.  
Ember pushed her whole weight on the wheel, steering the Splinter in a wide arc, circling her prey.  
“Ready the starboard cannons!” She howled.  
Before she could give her next command, the Marena’s long guns cracked with fury, and she found herself on her knees as a cannonball grazed her horns, sending her flames swirling in fear.  
“FUCKERS!” She shouted, scrambling back on her feet.  
“FIRE! FIRE! FIRE!!”  
Shots rumbled in the short stretch of sea between the two ships, and a sickening crash filled Ember’s ears.  
Emeini hollered, pointing at the Marena’s tattered mast.  
“I got their sails! They’re going nowhere, cap!!”  
Worse news came from belowdeck.  
“Captain, they got us! The hold’s flooding!”  
The Watcher snarled, rallying her deckhands.  
“Tuliak! Chitupec! Get down in the hold and clog the breach!”  
She then tightened her grip around the helm, palms slick with perspiration.  
“At my command, prepare to jibe! We’re seizing the wind!”  
The Splinter turned around, its mast creaking under the force of the wind, its speed increasing with every passing second.  
Lightning split the sky as they dashed towards their target, waves swelling under their prow.  
“Brace for impact!” Ember ordered.  
The two ships collided with a blow that sent both crews reeling.

Ember groaned, arms sore with effort, and unsheathed her sabre.  
“Beodul, take the wheel,” she barked.  
“AT IT, LADS!”  
A wild din erupted as they swarmed the Marena’s deck, weapons in hand, bloodlust surging through their veins.  
The cannoneers were the first to go.  
Ember saw Tixoc vanish in the shadows only to reappear behind one of them, thrusting his dagger into their neck.  
She inhaled deeply, a battlecry thundering in her chest, as she fought her way in the battering rain, her blade singing in the air, cutting, tearing, killing.  
Her gun cracked time and time again, claiming blood.  
“Itztli, watch out!!”, she heard Aloth cry.  
She turned around and saw the Marena’s captain loading her blunderbuss, her face pale and caked with dirt, her eyes burning a hole in her skull.  
She bared her teeth, her mind breaking into a psychic howl as she rushed forth, sword on the ready.  
Her heart fluttered as water and blood mingled underneath her boots, slickening her steps.  
When the world tilted, she knew it’d be her death.  
Her temple hit the planks with a low thud, and she felt the searing bite of lead in her spleen.  
She watched as the captain reloaded her gun, but she did not beg.  
Fury had clenched her soul, imbuing it with a suicidal drive.  
She felt her essence roil madly, its tendrils clinging to her muscles, fueling her every move.  
Pain sank in the pit of her consciousness as she leaped forth, a string of froth dangling from her mouth.  
The captain’s gun stared at her, its muzzle spewing fire.  
Red overcame her vision as her flesh shuddered.  
Yet, she did not stop.  
Terror twisted the captain’s features as Ember’s sabre hovered over her, and a yell left her chest when it sank in her stomach, tearing its way to her throat.  
When the woman’s body twitched in the throes of death, she pulled away, a scowl on her face, a wobble in her legs.  
“The captain’s dead”, she announced to no one in particular, surveilling the battle ahead.  
A sudden flash wounded her eyes as Aloth’s fireball flared on the weatherdeck, taking down the last surviving gunners.  
She saw her brother materialize before her, his form flickering in and out of view as weakness bent her knees, dragging her down.  
When his arms closed around her, she pushed him away. “The crates, you idiot! Mind the crates!”  
She saw his lips move, but couldn’t hear his words. “The crates, Tixoc… mind… the crates.”  
Her last words turned into silence as she fainted, collapsing in a puddle of her own blood.

* * *

 

When she jerked awake, she was splayed on the infirmary table.

Delia’s spectacles blinked at her as her back arched, her scream muffled by the wet piece of cloth wedged between her teeth.  
“Ah, captain, you’re awake.”, she heard her say.  
“What great timing… not. Ydwin, pass me the rum.”  
Ember gasped as the cloth slid its way out of her mouth, replaced by the cold neck of a bottle.  
“You have to forgive me, captain, but I had to go digging around your… everything. You had bits of lead tucked in the most unthinkable of places.”  
She paused, cocking her head as the Godlike groaned, struggling against the rum’s harsh burn.  
“Better?”  
Ember clenched her teeth, forcing the words out of her throat.  
“My brother… where is he?”  
“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about him, cap. He’s doing mighty fine, and so are the others. Sure: I had my share of broken bones and injuries to tend to, but you, captain, were the only one to come back on board wearing more bullets than a Rauatai gunner. That’s quite the achievement.” She paused, clacking her pincers in the air.  
“You’re lucky your hide’s as tough as fired bark, or I’d be embalming your corpse right now.”  
Ember drew a shaky breath, her relief soon drowned by a bout of malaise.  
“What about the crates?”, she whispered.  
“You’re asking the wrong person, cap. I have been quite busy in the past hour or so,” Delia replied, pointing at the bloody scraps of metal piled in a bowl next to her lap.  
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s one last interloper wedged into your abdomen I’d really like to take care of. It’s making you bleed quite a lot, and the sooner I’ll get rid of it, the sooner I’ll have your wounds cauterized.” She turned to her assistant, her face a mask of focus.  
“Ydwin, restrain her.“

When Delia’s pliers detatched from her flesh with a wet squelch, Ember found herself curled up on her side.  
Sweat and blood covered every inch of her body, and a cloud of exhaustion numbed her senses.  
“There!” Delia chirped, throwing the last offender on top of the heap.  
“Now captain, I’ll have to...” She reached back, grabbing a jar full of a foul-smelling powder.  
“... put this on your wounds. It’s a clotting agent. It will stop your bleeding, and it will hurt quite a bit-- but don’t worry: the worst has already passed.”  
The Watcher said nothing. She shivered as her wounds sizzled, her flesh melting together under the influx of the substance, resignation quickly turning into apathy.  
After what felt like an eternity, Delia chimed in once more.  
“Done!” She clapped her hands together before grabbing her feet.  
“Ydwin, help me out: we’re moving her on that bunk.”  
She whined as her forced movement sent a jolt of pain surging through her skull.  
“Good. Drink this.”  
Ember’s lips closed around a small vial, its red contents sweet and hearty.  
“It’ll help you get some more juice pumping in your veins. Now get yourself together: there’s some folks who’ve been waiting to see you for quite some time.”  
Ydwin walked to the door and pushed it open, causing Edér to gasp loudly.  
“Is… is she alive?”  
Ydwin’s reply was as dry and monotone as ever.  
“She is.”  
“Em!! Em, you’re-- Eothas gracious, you look awful!”  
“‘Li! ‘Li!! We made it-- five crates, we hauled in five crates of luminous!!” Tixoc’s cheeriness assaulted her ears, and his brisk touch felt like a wrench on her hand.  
“We… we did it?” She asked, her tone feeble and croaky.  
“Yes! Yes, ‘Li, we did it!!”  
She felt relief fill her lungs in waves, her worry melting away like snow in the sun.  
“Is… is all that blood yours?” She raised her head just in time to see Aloth’s face go white.  
“Master Aloth, I’d recommend you go abovedeck for some fresh air; I’m out of salts and I’d rather not have to slap you awake, should you faint on us.  
“I think I--” he staggered against the wall, pinching his forehead with two fingers.  
“No, no, I’m fine! No need to worry. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” He quickly turned around and left the room, his step faltering a fraction.  
“We… we did it...”, she repeated, her eyelids suddenly heavy.  
“We did it.”

 

 

* * *

 

The night had brought a scorching fever, and no matter how many blankets they’d wrapped around her, they couldn’t seem to quell Ember’s shakes.  
Delia’s drugs seemed to help in short bursts, only for her suffering to mount again after their effect had worn off.  
She thrashed in her bunk, locked in a fight with delirium for three nights.  
On the fourth day, her wits had finally slid behind her eyes, blinking the familiar face of her brother into focus.  
“...’Li? ‘Li!!” He exclaimed, as she propped herself on her elbows.  
“Gods, you’re back-- I’m so glad...” He wrapped his arms around her ribs, prying a pained yowl out of her.  
“Hey, careful!!” She barked, pushing him away.  
Tixoc chuckled.  
“You’re back all-right! Not that I had any doubt: you’re just strong like this, you are.”  
He smiled, and presented her with a glass of water.  
“Here, drink.”  
Ember snatched it out of his hand and drained it in a single gulp.  
“Ah, fuck, I needed this.”  
She then looked around, confusion etched on her face.  
“Where are we?”  
“We, my dear sister, have just docked in Neketaka!”  
Her eyes went wide.  
“Oh fuck. This is the day, isn’t it?”  
Tixoc nodded.  
“So it is!”

Ember groaned, realization washing over her like a raincloud.  
“Shit. The Doemenels are gonna come any moment-- here, help me down.”  
She grabbed her brother’s arm and slipped off her bunk, her legs shaky and unstable.  
“Can you walk?”  
“I can try. Just… let me lean onto you, ‘k?”, she said and, very gingerly, they began their climb to abovedeck.

When they stepped into the morning sun, Ascley was already at the feet of the Splinter, her five lackeys standing patiently behind her.  
“Ah, good morning, Lady Captain of Caed Nua! Got a bit roughed up, I see?”  
Ember nodded.  
“Calculated risk“, she replied.  
“I see, dearest Captain dear, I see. Still!”  
Ascley clapped her hands together.  
“I think you have something for us… or do you, my dear Lady Captain?”  
The woman laughed, sending Ember’s migraine flaring.  
“That we do. Emeini!”  
She turned around and motioned her cannoneer towards the hold, holding out four fingers.  
Immediately, her, Tuliak and Chitupec scuttled below decks, disappearing from sight.  
Soon, four crates had appeared on deck, kindling a smile on Ascley’s lips.  
“Four crates worth of luminous, Ascley: three as required, plus one as a... gesture of goodwill, aimed at ensuring a durable and fruitful alliance between our families. Now...”  
She took a deep breath, regretting it immediately as a stab of pain jolted through her side.  
“...  two of-- two of your men will be allowed on board for the purpose of checking the wares and helping my sailors unload them.”  
Ascley nodded, and turned to exchange a rapid-fire sequence of orders with her men.  
Immediately, two burly Aumauas jumped on the Splinter’s ladder and trotted toward the boxes.  
The biggest of them began prying them open, the greenish glow of Adra dancing on his scarred face.  
“So, Efrith, what d’ye say?” Ascley lilted from below. “Are we happy?”  
The huge man grinned a toothy grin. “Yes, Ascley, We’re very happy.”  
Ember watched as the wooden cases made their way on the pier, stacking up in a pile behind the Doemenel envoy.  
The woman chuckled, rapping her knuckles on one of the trunks, an expression of wicked satisfaction on her features.  
“Well, Tixoc, who would have thought I’d ever say this?” She turned her gaze to him, her eyes suddenly piercing and focused.  
“Our debt, my dear elfie-boy, is officially sealed. Be a good boy and thank your sister for that.”  
Ember felt another spark of relief lighting up in her chest.  
“I’d hop down and shake your hand, Ascley, but...”  
She pointed at her bandages in an eloquent gesture, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to.”  
“Ah, don’t worry my dear Captain of Caed Nua”, the woman replied.  
“The pleasure is all mine.” Greed glimmered in her eyes as her man turned around, starting towards Neketaka’s twisted alleys, crates hoisted on their shoulders.  
“I shall send your regards to Raegar Doemenel. Fare thee well, Lady Captain of Caed Nua.”  
Tixoc looked as they disappeared, as if wanting to impress the image deeper in his mind.  
“I’m free...”, he then muttered.  
“I’m free… I’m free!!!” He yelled, throwing his arms in the air and exploding into an uncontrollable chuckle.  
“We did it, Itzltli-- no: YOU did it!!” He rushed towards her, beaming, and planted a sound kiss between her horns.  
“Thank you sis, thank you, thank you, th--” He fell on his knees and hugged Ember’s calves.  
“Thank you, th--”  
Ember’s groan stopped his train of iterations.  
“Stop it, Tix. You don’t need to thank me. I’m your sister, and I’d rather die than risk losing you, do you understand?”  
She leaned against the Splinter’s bow, her expression grave and somber.  
“We’re family, Tixoc. This is what families do: they spend months roaming the world in the faint hope their sister might still be alive, and they… ”  
She sighed, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow.  
“... they nearly get killed by trying to save each other’s honor.”  
Her lips turned upwards.  
“Even when said honor belongs to an utter fuckup like yourself, Tixoc Tlacatl.”  
She then beckoned him, clamping a hand on his shoulder and steering him towards the stairs.  
“Now, come: I’ll give my sailors three days worth on shore leave, and then I want nothing but for us to plop in the galley and share a cup of malcachoa tea with some antelope jerky on the side. You know,” she concluded, winking complicitly, “for old time’s sake.”


End file.
